


Promises to Yourself (Part I)

by RobberOfATMs



Series: Promises [1]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Broken Promises, Cutting, Depression, Self Harm, Short, Vent story, based on real life, ig, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberOfATMs/pseuds/RobberOfATMs
Summary: Bim discovers the problem with promises to yourself.Possible Trigger warning: this contains self-harm that isn't all that graphic but just be warned.





	Promises to Yourself (Part I)

**Author's Note:**

> Like most of my depression/anxiety/angsty whatever stories, whatever you wanna call them, this based on real life. Vent story I guess. Like literally, this is the day after shit happened. So just be warned. In case you didn't see it  
> THIS CONTAINS SELF HARM  
> if this going to trigger you, please don't read it

Bim promised himself he wouldn't. Never again. But see, that's the problem with promises to yourself. When you want to break them, there's not one stopping you. When your brain is screaming to do something you previously said you wouldn't, well, you're supposed to listen to your body, right? 

So after a rough day, here he sat in his room, alone. Alone like he always was. Alone at last. The only friend Bim had was his knife.

Everyone was yelling at him. All he ever did was mess up. He always forgot to do this or that, always positioned the cameras wrong, always stepped in the way, always pissed someone off. It was all the he could do not to cry while Wilford or Dark or Dr. Iplier yelled at him today. All he could do  to hold on a little bit longer. 

Until finally,  _finally_ -

He was alone. 

He was alone and he could do what he did best. Hurt himself more. There was no one in his life that he could promise. No one in his life that he wanted to be strong for. No one cared. Not even Bim himself. 

So he slid the blade across his skin, like he'd wanted to so badly the last week. He dug both the jagged and smooth edges into his soft flesh, red droplets of blood appeared. He did it again, and again, waited for blood to bubble up, then wiped it away. He switched to the other side, and repeated. 

He didn't feel guilty this time, as he added more fresh cuts to his barely healed white lines and faded scars. He didn't feel bad. He felt better, less shaky, less emotional. He almost felt good.

Almost.

When you're breaking down without making a single sound, when you're standing in your bedroom with a knife in your hand and blood on your legs, you finally see the problem with promises to yourself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't worry about me. I friends who know about my problem. I just didn't have my phone last night and felt useless. It's not that big of a deal. I over exaggerate my own situations for the effect in the story.


End file.
